Remains
by joonbugs
Summary: "There are fates worse than death, I remind myself, drawing my blades and bracing myself against the plumes of smoke and ruin, and this hell is one of them." Wisteria comes from a world practically alien to the one she now resides in, shrouded in the shadow of the walls and the might of the titans. With tragedy at every corner, she will fight tooth and nail to survive.
1. Chapter One: Buried is My Childhood

Being born is agonizing. I was born on the eve of one the harshest winters humanity had battled during its time in the walls. My mother's cries and my own caterwauls made the silent night sound like a massacre. The memory is one of my most vivid, it has always been my curse to be so much _aware_ then most children. It is hard to forget the viscous blood sticking to my stubby, new limbs and the darkness I had awakened to. My naked body was draped in the biting cold for several long moments before someone wrapped me in a scratchy wool blanket.

In those hours I wouldn't stop shrieking as the nurse and doctor poked and prodded at me. They needed to make sure I was a healthy babe. I was safe under their care but I wasn't able to understand that. Everything was so _foreign_ it made me terrified. The thoughts wouldn't stop rushing in. _Where was I? Why is it so dark? Where is my family?_ It wasn't until I was placed in my new mother's arms that I stilled. I think it might've been her warmth that made feel so immensely secure. She was much softer and kinder than the rough material I was cocooned in. They were at a lost for what happened, I had been near possessed seconds before and now my fists had stopped swinging and my screaming had halted.

From that point on I was a fairly silent baby.

* * *

When I first learned to talk, I started with singular words unable to quite string together the complexity of a sentence. The new language was confusing and frustrating in many ways, but I had more experience with linguistics than your average baby. I was already fluent in one. Sometimes I would talk in it, just to feel the syllables roll off my tongue. These vowels and consonants tasted like home. My parents, however, unafraid by my aptitude to take in the world around were thrilled at how quick I was to catch on to things. They grew boundlessly proud of even my incomprehensible babbling. Still, I refused to name them my mother and father.

It saddened my mother more than she'd like to admit I think. When she thought my father wasn't looking, she wiped away tears. I spent a week calling out the names of common household objects and even a tree outside the window. Never did I point at her and call her mother.

The first time I got sick I finally cried again. It was my first birthday and the wind and snow had been tickling my senses through my thin clothes all month. The sickness started in my lungs and soon I could barely pick myself up without being sent into a fit of coughing. Each day became a battle as a fever overtook my body. Was I going to die so soon? For the first time in a long while instead of feeling apathetic and detached to the experience of life, I felt with a ferocity that was alien to me. I was just observing this world, gleaning what I could from it, and not realizing my vulnerability in it. I played an intricate and fragile role on this greater stage of a world. It made me afraid. I think that was the first time I realized that this wasn't just a matter of _being_ , it was one living.

I called out for my mother. She took me in her arms and tried to calm my horrid sobbing. I clung to her warmth and repeated over and over. _Mother, mother, mother, mother_.

This was my home now.

* * *

The days of my first words, first steps, first book, and first time writing my name past like a leaf in the wind. They were sweet and they were fleeting. We moved when I was four. The past few months beforehand my parents began to grow concerned that I was growing up too fast. I took the move in stride, unlike the usual response you would receive from a child. No kicking or screaming was involved, I just went. I had no reason to be upset for I had grown no attachment to our home.

The abnormal maturity I had finally started to bewilder my parents. If it wasn't apparent to them before that I wasn't an ordinary child it was now. They dealt with it before shrugging aside my intelligence and independence. _She's a bright little girl, that's all_. Now, they couldn't ignore it and turn a blind eye. There were things you couldn't ignore. How when I got a bruise or scrape I handled myself in a callous manner. I rarely _ever_ cried. Or smiled, where most children were jubilant I was only curious. Apathy seemed to plague me.

The people of the city noticed things right away when my our family came searching for residence right away. They smelled the interior on us like a predator senses the perfume of its prey. No one could walk away away from my gaze without a comment on how odd I was. _That girl, her eyes are too old for such a young body._

I think something is wrong with me as we make the journey to our new home. From the city it is about an hour by foot and half that by horse. I keep flexing my fingers, jumping as our cart jostles over the bumpy path, pondering how much of a person I really am. My mother takes me in her arms and I soak up her warmth. There is one thing for certain, I am her daughter. That is who am. I am blood and flesh and bones. I am a beating heart and gasping lungs. If anything, I am human.

Our new home is shrouded in the forest. The nearest village is a mile from us. No one speaks as we unload or belongings. We began to fill the empty space of the cottage with a sense of _us_. Dust and cobwebs litter the dark corners of the rooms, indicating to me we are the first residents in awhile. My mother offhandedly mentions she does not like the place. I can see she misses the small dose of luxury we owned behind Wall Sheena. My father does not seem to mind and instead appears like he is relishing being tucked in a corner of the woods.

I try to be indifferent, but I am excited by the prospect of this place. Nature has always been fascinating to watch and here I was, smack dab in the middle of it all. The calming atmosphere washes over me as we spend our first few days adjusting. After the first week, my father and I venture out and explore our new land. Quickly we find the uptake will require more labor than we are used to. Father doesn't seem phased, rather I think he is thrilled not to be idle anymore. As a carpenter he did not achieve much except cater to the demands of richer, more important people.

I toil under the first few weeks of work. My back aches and my limbs burn with soreness. Every time I shift to move my body howls in pain. Each step is followed by labored breathing. But soon I become tolerant to the work and it becomes integrated into my life as if chopping down wood and tending to crops was something I had always done.

Soon, however, I was faced with a new challenge. School, and all the horrors of social interaction of children my age followed it. I found that children can be exceedingly cruel to each other. Often I came home with a busted lip or black eye because some petulant child decided to test my patience. Fights became another integral part of my life. Some part of me enjoyed the rush of brawling with other children in back alleyways after the class was dismissed. No one could really pursue vengeance once I handed their ass to them, I did live in the middle of nowhere and school was in the city. I think it grated on the older kids that a six year old could beat them up and get away with it. They deserved it though, after all the names they called my family and they taunted me for being mentally superior to them.

While this was all going down, my younger sister was born. She was a bit of incandesce in the dullness of my life. When I held her for the first time and those little hazel eyes peered back up at me with such a fiery tenderness I couldn't help but beam and laugh. I think I shocked my parents with the joy I felt when I was around Annabeth. A bit more life flickered inside of me and I _became_ more than just the girl with the old eyes.

I was alive.

* * *

Two years past and Annabeth went from crawling to running, from babbling to berating us with questions. I came home looking worse and worse. The older kids who picked on me and I hit in return, grew bigger and stronger. I started losing more and more fights. Life dragged on.

"Do you even have a personality?" one girl asked me as she watched our lesson with a vapid expression. I gritted my teeth and paused my scrawling, Fiona was two years my elder and more irritating than even Arthur, who always tugged on my braid.

"Do you have a brain?" I responded. I had no time for idiots, but her question continued to bother me as I trekked home.

There was something cold about me, I decided, I was closed off to others, even my family. I preferred to watch others react than to do so myself. Expression was something I rarely partook in. The detached way I lived finally began to gnaw away at me. The process was slow but as I aged I began to reveal more and more of myself to my family. I showed keen interest in the survival tactics my father was researching in his free time. I shared what I had learned in school with Annabeth and discussed the books I had read with my mother. Questions about my legacy were finally asked. _How did you meet? Where did you get that scar?_ I laughed and smiled more, even dared to make my own jokes despite the humor being dry and oftentimes insulting. I could tell it made them all happy.

It made me happy too.

"What do you think the outside is like?" Annabeth asked with glowing eyes and a wide smile, showing off the tooth she had already lost. She was growing fast.

"I don't know," I said, sifting through our cabinets. She had been bothering me for the past hour with her impossible to answer questions. "I've never been."

 _That's a lie_.

She pouted, attempting to guilt trip me into a more vivid answer. Then she bounced back with even more energy, "I'm going to go outside the walls! I'll join the Survey Corps like Gerard."

My grip on the mason jar of precious peaches tightened, "Don't be dumb, Gerard's just saying that so people will like him. He doesn't have the balls to fight titans."

"How would you know? You've never seen a titan before."

I stilled, "I don't need to _see_ one to know what their capable of. I've heard the stories and that's enough."

"That's a cowards way of thinking," Ananbeth said, avoiding my eyes and swinging her arms at her side.

"Where'd you hear that, huh?"

"Some kid."

"Well, don't listen to that kid," I said, kneeling down and taking her hands. "Look at me, valuing your own life is _not_ thinking like a coward."

"But how do our lives mean anything trapped behind the walls?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

* * *

I often dreamt of the outside world, of the world I called home before _this_. There were infinite masses of water brimming with life. _Oceans_. There were forests like our own and ones with vast differences, the trees brushed the sky and it rained near every day. _Rainforests_. There were lands were it didn't rain, places were you'd expect to be barren of life but they _weren't_. _Deserts_. I had been robbed of so much.

Yet I didn't want to give up the life I had now. I didn't want to give up my mother's smile or my father's hardworking spirit. I wasn't going to let go of Annabeth, perhaps the one I love most in this godforsaken world.

I told her about it, the outside world she and I yearned for so much. I hadn't meant to but I did. She made me vow to take her to see it. I gave her my word but...

Some promises were made to be broken.

That day was was peaceful I remember. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping as Annabeth and I played with the wooden figurines Father had carved for her. I just turned ten and she was proud to be eight. Mother was singing one of her sweet melodies as she wiped sweat from her brow. Father tended to our old but loyal mare, Noel. She had grown sick for some unexplainable reason. Annabeth giggled gleefully as she knocked over my toy soldier with her own. I was too busy transfixed by the birds as the scattered suddenly, I grew uneasy. Something was _wrong_. Very wrong.

I stood up, ignoring Annabeth's protests. In the distance, if I strained my vision, I could see smoke gathering over what was the Shiganshina District. Dread followed as I saw a figure on horseback dressed in the clothes of the Garrison approaching. He was so pale and wan I thought he might topple off his steed. His eyes were wide in terror and he was screaming something I couldn't quite understand.

When I finally heard, I grabbed Annabeth and ran.

"THE TITANS HAVE BREACHED THE WALL!"

* * *

(a/n);

Hey! Welcome to this fanfic,,, LEMME teLL you I am so excited. I hope you've enjoyed what you've read so far! I'd like to hear your thoughts on my character, Wisteria.

okAy yeah that's all I have to say for now.


	2. Chapter Two: Here Lies a Broken Girl

I was alone.

My insides turned to ash and my blood turned as cold as ice. Was this what dying felt like? I couldn't quite recall. It wasn't hard for me to say with certainty that it would hurt _less_. This pain was raw, excruciating. It tore apart at you from the inside like someone had unleashed a hurricane within the chasm of your chest.

Screaming and crying echoed throughout the streets, a scar that refused to fade pain was. Families still desperately searched for lost loved ones. They already knew full well if you weren't behind Wall Rose already you were as good as dead. Why did they still try? It was fruitless. I covered my ears and curled up against the grungy wall of a deserted alleyway. It was hard to escape the wailing. The remnants of such tragedy would follow us survivors around like our own shadow. Trauma is a constant companion to its victims.

Tears continued to cascade down my face even after the pain morphed from rabid to hollowing. They had been afflicting me every moment _since_. Sometimes it would just happen and there would be nothing to do to stifle the grief. I had no control. I never did, not once. Not when _they_ came and tore apart my life by its thin seams. _Snap_. It fell apart so easily, so quickly.

 _Stop. Get up._

I rose from the fetal position I held, brushing off dirt that had gathered on my pants and wiping away the tears. With a pang I recall what Mother always used to tell me, _the most beautiful of flowers bloom in the greatest adversity._ The world and its inhabitants had become my enemies. They both were forcing me to my knees, begging for survival. _No more._ I was going to live and not anyone would stop me.

 _Promise me! Promise me you'll survive._

Some promises made were constructed to be shattered. Other were forged to be fulfilled.

* * *

Norman Kirkland finds me stealing a peach. Mostly I found low risk victims to swipe from, a stale loaf of bread from a basket or a few loose coins that clattered to the ground as I bumped into them. The food shortage was making the population rabid. The week prior I had to claw a man's face to stop him from pummeling me just to get the last bite of my moldy bread. Refugees and others on the street like myself had it the worst. Not only did we have to go hungry for days on end, but our fellow citizens treated us no better than rats. Four months after the breach of the wall and people's sympathies had been depleted like water in a drought.

Usually, I was cautious and handled my thieving with great care. The sight of the peach in the plump woman's hands had been enticing enough to make me reckless. I would have gotten away with it had it not been for the greasy haired crime boss. He had grabbed me by my hair and yanked hard enough that I saw red. After the splintering pain faded, I grew furious and stomped violently on his shiny boot-clad feet. That was my second mistake. Norman punched and kicked at me for a few minutes. I didn't cry, I didn't whimper. I barely reacted. Looking back, that's probably what kept me alive.

"You're one tough cookie, little rat," he had said with a sneer that raised the hair on my arms. His eyes concealed something sinister as he picked up my chin. I willed my face to remain passive. "How'd you like to fight for good ol' Kirkland here?"

I glared straight ahead, barely registering his presence.

"There's something in it for, food and maybe a bed if you win enough."

Norman had gained my attention and he reveled in that. He knew how to take advantage of a starving orphan, "What do you say to that, brat?"

I nodded. Another nasty smile later and I was up on my feet, hand in his and being led out of the alleyway he had dragged me into.

I wish I would've spit in his face instead.

* * *

I met May after one catastrophic fight left my face in tattered ruins. She was fairly adept at cloaking herself deep into the shadows and I never noticed her until her hands were skillfully stitching my torn skin back together. Her hands were fluttering all over the place like the wings of a hummingbird. I took in the callouses adorning her knuckles. May was not gentle when she mended my wounds, she was firm and little harsh. Maybe had this been a different time in my life I would've have thanked her. Instead I brushed her help away as soon as I could sit upright. I had no time to be indebted to little girls who would go missing at the end of the month like they always did.

My job in the Underground was not to make friends. It was to win fights and provide Norman with a pretty penny.

Somewhere along the line it got worse. Norman threw me into fights with odds that saw me losing with severe consequences. He paid me less, fed me less, and eventually he took away the blanket and cot he had provided me with. All the while I was a bruised canvas with splintering ribs and bleeding color. I was able to heal myself fairly well with only my own hands and minimal supplies. I set my broken bones back into place and used old, musty clothing that I had outgrown as bandages.

The next day I was absolutely pummeled by a man _twice_ my size. Usually I fought other street kids, but Norman said it was time for me to move up to the big leagues. He told me I had an aptitude for fighting, and while that may have been true, my wit and agility did little against pure brawn. These were hardened men who had probably spent most of their lives snapping kids like me in two like a twig. A scrawny and malnourished girl had nothing on them, not even with an incredible tolerance for pain and a sharpened mind able to usurp the older and stronger kids. My finely honed survival skills did nothing to ward off this giant's fists as they dove into my face.

May was there to drag away my ruined form from the ring. This time I bat away her hands with my fading strength. Anger bubbled in my chest like molten lava ready to burst from a volcano. _How can you be so weak?_ My body ached with fiery anguish as I attempted to bring myself to my feet.

May sat me back down and pulled out her little wooden box of medical tools she had scrounged from careless doctors above-ground. She looked solemn as she brushed her hand against my swollen face, "You need me."

"I don't need anybody," I spat, trying to crawl away from her kindness.

"Yes you do," she said, sounding a little fiercer this time.

There was this naivety about May, her innate need to help every suffering child here was foolish. She refused to see the nefarious people who meandered about in this hub of criminals and orphans. But, she also radiated this certain shade of toughness. How she always insisted on defending the younger kids reminded me that if a mother bear. I think some part of me admired this little girl with her flimsy ideals and strong words.

"I'm going to probably have to set several of your bones back into place and apply some antiseptic to prevent infection," May said, assessing the damage with an intense gaze. "It's going to hurt."

"It already does," I replied. She pulled out a small jar of transparent liquid. I tried to keep the surprise from leaping on my face, most medicine was crude even in the hands of experienced medical practitioners. This seemed to be a step up. "Where'd you get that?"

She grinned impishly, "Norman has me steal drugs and run them to customers. Sometimes I swipe a little something extra."

May began to press the antiseptic into my wounds and I hissed despite myself. The liquid stung as it burrowed itself into my bleeding and torn skin. My broken bones came next. I barely allowed myself to flinch even in the slightest. The pain was almost overwhelming but I shoved down the cries erupting into my throat. She finished my bandaging me up.

"All finished," she said, humming a little tune as she cleaned up.

I sat there in silence for a moment, contemplating my next words with care. "Thanks," was all that I managed to force out.

May smiled a warm flash of teeth that reminded me of the sunflowers that used to bloom around the forest in summer. From that point onwards she called me _friend_.

* * *

As I grew older and the fights became more violent, I understood I wasn't going to be able to stay here forever. Norman was a businessman, and if one of his orphans wasn't making enough money he'd do away with him. I'd seen some of my fellow fighters be dragged away from our cots in the sewers in the dead of night. In the morning there would be no trace of them except for the telltale stain of blood. It was only a matter of time before I faced the same fate. My body just couldn't hold up to the beatings anymore, the lack of food and water weakened me considerably.

Aboveground, May told me, the food shortage only worsened. She'd seen people whose bones jutted out from underneath their worn clothing and that their skin sagged from their bodies. The mere thought of the famine sickened me. I could only imagine the refugees looked like the walking dead. Was the same to happen to us? Or had it already begun? In the near two years I had spent in the underground I had never once come across a mirror. Perhaps the stray puddle, but never the reflective glass of a mirror. I didn't know what I looked like. May said I looked haunting and gaunt, that I reminded her of a ghost. Maybe that's what I was becoming, a ghost.

Eventually, Norman pulled from the ring and had me and the other girls relocated. It was about a two day journey to the innermost edge of Wall Rose and we arrived to one of Norman's private estates. The maids, timid and frail once sighting our escorts, led us through the garden into the back shed. The men, our escorts, watched us with a vigilance that made my skin crawl. They stroked the butts of their guns and the hilts of their daggers and licked their lips. Once inside the shed the maids scurried away, wan with fear. I couldn't blame them, I felt queasy with fear despite myself. The other girls remained ignorant to the glint in their eyes but I _knew._ This was the greed of men. They would take and take, never giving and never stopping.

One man made to grab for Victory, a girl of ten with bottle curls that bounced when she laughed and rosy cheeks that shone when she smiled. She was the essence of pure in an almost angelic sense. That was about to be ripped from her. The man began to drag her outside, purring as she began to cry. Another man halted him, he was smaller and his eyes were beady with apprehension.

"Boss said that they were to be left untainted," he said, licking his lips nervously. "Said that our buyer don't like spoiled goods."

"The only thing that's bein' spoiled is my good time," the other growled.

"You really wanna test Mr. Kirkland's patience?"

Victory was shaking like a leaf as the man who held her in his viper grip tossed her back into the shed. The little girl yowled as she landed on her wrist with a _crack_! May was there in an instant, massaging away the pain and attempting to make a makeshift splint. She wiped away Victory's pearly tears and sang to her in a hushed voice. The girl's cries dulled into whimpers and silence fell over the shed.

I avoided looking the other girls in the eyes, trying not to feel guilty for not being able to stop what was to come. There was no way I could fight off my own fate and their's. I could only run and hope that it wouldn't catch up with me.

The sun rose and as it spread its light across the sky my heart sank. The dawn brought about what I had been dreading. I had to save myself. It took all my willpower to swallow the bitter feeling in my throat turn away from all these little girls. In the that moment I realized that I, too, was just a little girl. Perhaps I was something older trapped in a fragile body, but I couldn't avoid the way I was shaking. There were certain things that I couldn't deny my fear towards. Death was one of them, and this, a fate worse than that eternal end, was another one.

I picked up my body which was heavy with _feeling_. I wanted to exterminate those feelings inside me and leave myself blank. I wanted to restart, to leave behind all the grief and love and terror storming inside my chest. There were things I wanted to forget, to erase from existence, that couldn't be. Memories were branded on me and would follow me everywhere I ran. My past would always catch with me, I realized.

 _Stop it. STOP IT! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE._

May's face bore into my own and saw what lay beneath. The girl peered at me with pity and understanding. I think in that moment she burrowed herself within the depths of my soul and felt the tremors as it broke into a thousand little pieces. I shoved her out by looking away and heading towards the door. I never quite understood or knew who I was. There was no way to decipher the rhyme or reason behind my emotions or my reactions. It just _was_. Now, I decided who I was going to be. I was no longer that meek little girl, I was going to be more. I was a _survivor_ , and if that made me a villain and coward as well, then so be it. I made a promise and I was going to keep it whatever the cost.

I opened that door and I didn't look back.

* * *

(a/n);

I hope you enjoyed reading this despite the shitty quality! I really love Wisteria's character and I'm hundred percent ready to delve deeper into her character. The next chapter you'll find out what happens to May and the other girls. You'll also see what happens to Wisteria in the wake of all of this and what she decides to do.

Feedback is much appreciated!


	3. AN: On Updates

So, I highly doubt anyone has actually enjoyed this work or is highly anticipating an update. ( Big thanks, however, to Jayla Fire Gal for leaving a lovely review. And yes, love, your assumptions are correct ;) ) BUT! There will be a likely chance this will be undergoing some changes to what I originally had in store, so stay tuned for edits of the earlier chapters. I will also continue to update ( I have a good fourth of the third chapter written and a good deal of it sketched out, along with plans for up to the Battle of Trost. Be excited! ). I hope to find that more people leave some reviews in the future, they are our often young authors like myself's drive to continue updating, feedback helps fuel more content. I actually decided to transfer many of my more "complex" stories to here and AO3 for hopes of a better reception to my writing. Hopefully, I'll see more evidence of more appreciative readers as I continue to publish. Anyways! Reviews are hella loved and if you have any questions about this work feel free to leave me a message!

Love,

Sophie


	4. Chapter Three: A Caged Bird Sings

Fear, I thought, kicking rocks while I dwelled in front of the enlistment center (a shack really), was the driving force behind our survival, and effectively our evolution. I paused to reel in the absolute detached, clinical way I carried out my musings. It was odd to think that one choice could have honeysuckle seeping from my thighs, instead of blood. I was no longer a child, even though in the beginning I had never been one, but now a woman. An officer, dressed in the drab of the military, peeked her head outside, most likely to reprimand me for loitering. There was no need. I made my decision. The route to survival laid in the food and beds in basic and perhaps, if I was truly forged from steel instead of delicate and decorative china, I would find a place in the Military Police.

There were plenty of stories swapped in the shadows of the Underground, creating a vivid picture of the Military. To the criminals who found a currency in broken bones and bloody bruises, they were the bane of their miserable existence. To the orphans they were the monsters your mother said weren't hidden under your bed. A sinister image of men with boots coated in the blood of innocents and jagged shards of bones torn from the carcasses of their victims for teeth had haunted me in my earlier years of life in the dark corners of the walls. I quickly realized what a sham that was, they may have been corrupt and had roadkill for hearts, but in the end they were pathetic human beings who never played poker with the devil or had a brush with death.

Somehow, that was where I would find myself, breathing the same oxygen as dog-shit I felt entitled to wipe off my shoes. There was a certain jaded irony to it all. I couldn't rouse any anger at the injustice, I spent all my hatred on the world when I watched... I shut those thoughts out with a sharp warning bite on my lip, taming the beasts running around in my head. The officer glared at me still, probably thinking she could scare away a brat like me with disdain. What an idiot. She obviously had zero clue what it meant to be an orphan on streets like these. The only thing I was scared of anymore was letting myself fail and sacrifice myself to be titan chow. Woman with pinched faces and haughtiness woven into the every twitch of their muscle were the least of my problems. Being at the bottom of this screwed up food chain was something I was determined to change. I'd be on top soon enough.

The officer didn't appear anymore pleased to see me enter the enlistment center, but stood aside anyways to let me saunter in, confidence seeping from every pore. If I didn't signal the utmost certainty in who I was, I could quite possibly be executed for enlisting with false credentials. It wasn't that hard to find some lowlife willing to forge documents about a "Wisteria Smith" from Stohess district. I even set-up a whole elaborate backstory paired with the fake identity so that no one would question what a girl from the interior would be doing behind Wall Rose. Of course, I didn't expect many to ask seeing as the fourteen year olds lining up to die were about as dull as a door knob. They rarely questioned things and let the world dictate their fate, which would get a vast majority of them killed. Free will was the key to survival.

There was a long line of sweaty puberty riddled kids with hormones for brains crammed into the compact building that I waited patiently behind. Twenty minutes into awaiting my turn, the petite girl in front of me began tapping her foot while gnawing her lip. She was a bomb waiting to go off, standing there with her grey eyes that burned like vats of molten iron and her curly frizz of hair framing her dark skin. I leaned against the wall, hoping to block out the incessant noise of her frayed boots slamming against the worn wood. Every creak that followed the each tap served to drive crazy and crazier until finally I decided to give her a piece of my mind.

One eye cracked open, like a predator staring down her prey, I growled, "Stop the fidgeting before I rip off your toes to feed to the homeless."

The group of chattering females behind me retreated away from me, which was nice since I could breathe again without them pressed against me. The girl, however, appeared non-plussed, "Quit the tough act. Bet you've never seen the garbage that inhabits the Underground. You have nothing on those rats."

I laughed. It was the first time I had done it in ages, but I didn't feel as freeing as it had once been. It was like being caught in a housefire and choking on the smoke from the flames. The sound was infused with none of the life or glee it was supposed, it was a wintery callous noise instead of the spring garden it usually was. A chill settled over our corner and the edged away from me, taking the hint. I wasn't a rat, I was a wolf.

"You shouldn't be scared of rodents, when beasts stand outside your door," I whispered in her ear, delighting as she flinched away.

"The fuck that's supposed to mean?" she blinked, pursing her lips in frustration. I had all but forgotten the meager education most of the population received. To be fair, I had a whole lifetime on these kids. Still. It was disappointing and irritating they never quite caught onto to my jargon.

"It means my name is Wisteria and you should keep both eyes open," a sigh departed my lips accompanied by a subtle roll of my eyes. The girl seemed relatively unbothered by my near glacial attitude.

"Will do," the girl replied, sticking out her hand, "Eloise. Nice to make your acquaintance."

"I'm not here to make friends, idiot," I scoffed, swatting away her hand.

Eloise took these all in stride, sending me a sideways smile, "Stop with the dramatics, ice queen ain't a good look for you."

"Shut up," and to my horror my face began to redden a bit. Goddamn teenaged body. "I don't want to befriend a shitbrain like you. Hell, I don't want to befriend any of you because when it comes down to it you'll turn tail and run for the hills in combat."

"Suit yourself," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Next!"

"That'll be my cue," Eloise backpedaled away with a lopsided grin. "See you later! Hope you get that stick out of your ass when we meet again."

I kicked the empty space where she had previously occupied. I just wanted to be left alone without a bunch of flies buzzing around to cause to me annoyance. The drawbridge to the fortress of my soul slammed shut. No more friends. It was just me. I was going to live even if I left every human being in this room to die in the wake.

* * *

Keith Shadis was not a frightening man. Had the circumstances of my lifetime been different, had I met him before the fall of Wall Maria, I may have found his vaguely buggy eyes unnerving. You live long enough, though, and you begin to see all the things people wished to keep buried. Shadis was simply a man who had been beaten and broken. Perhaps, he may have been a predator once, zooming through the sky, but a bird cannot fly without its wings.

I watched him stalk down the rows and rows of cadets, chewing them out until nothing but a carcass of shaking knees and teary eyes remained. He was brutal and ruthless with his words, I wondered if he could back them up with action. A boy a few people down from myself, lanky and appeared well-fed, boasted about joining the Military Police. It was hard to bar my laughter from leaving my chest, I could imagine the cocky sneer plastered on his face. The kid was about to find out what it meant to make the cut for the branch. Bone crashing against bone produced a loud crack that made my own skull ache in sympathy. Whimpers sounded from down the line, presumably the victim of Shadis' headbutt. Pathetic. He had a lot to prove if he wanted to so much as fantasize of achieving the top ten.

Another boy was interrogated by Shadis, and his response was near identical to his predecessor. This time some bullshit about serving the king was added in. At this point it was putting me in physical pain not to burst out crowing at their stupidity. I watched Shadis grill into this boy with keen interest, observing the utter terror coloring his irises. Then it was over and I swiveled my eyes forward to avoid my own personal chat with the vicious instructor as he made his way past several others without as many comments. When he reached me, he stood at a standstill for a minute assessing me as I woodenly stared ahead. Not an ounce of weakness that I still was plagued with was on display for Shadis to rip apart. He moved on, saying nothing.

My muscles relaxed and I shrugged my stiff shoulders. The whole thing was worthless to me, nothing more than a charade or a show. For the majority of the rest of the initiation, I endured the scorching summer heat and prayed that the girl behind me would shut her trap and stop sniveling. I almost sprinted to the barracks when Shadis dismissed us, pushing past some of the slower girls who grouped together to gossip about their apparent 'trauma.' If I wasn't in such a rush to get acquainted with a shower and bed I would have paused to have a 'word' with them. Not that anything I could say would actually leave a dent on their thick skulls.

A small gathering of girls was already swarming around the bunks like a colony of honeybees when I stormed in. The ones who came across my path quickly dodged to the side. There was a bunk in the back, closest to the showers and farthest from the dull chatter of my fellow female cadets. There were two girls already occupying the bunk across from the one I was determined to lay claim to. One was perched on the top bunk with her legs swung over the railing, playing with a pocketknife. She had an unpleasant scar that ran diagonally across her face, stopping just at the edge of her jawline. The other was tying her boots with great attention, pulling at the strings with a display of strength I found entirely unnecessary. Silky dark hair fell and guarded the expression that donned her face. A bright red scarf was sprawled out next to her. I couldn't help but wonder what purpose it served her in the unbearable heat.

Tossing my meager supplies onto the bottom bunk, I spread my aching limbs across the rock solid mattress. I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping to regain some of the energy I had perspired under the sun. They snapped open when I heard a foot creak against the wobbly ladder.

"Fancy seeing you here," Eloise said with a cheeky smile. Her bronze skin glistened with sweat and she discarded her uniform and rolled up the sleeves to her tunic. A sorry excuse for a knapsack was thrown over her shoulder.

I groaned and rolled over. Hopefully she got the message. I was not to be bothered.

A few seconds later I heard the wood planks above my head squeal as Eloise pulled herself onto the top bunk. Not a moment later curly hair was tickling my forehead. I startled upwards to see the damned fool hanging upside with nothing but her calves for support. She poked my cheek. "Let's get dinner, yeah?"

"How bout you leave me the fuck alone?"

She snorted, "You'll sleep through it if I leave you here. I don't think you'll last very long tomorrow without food."

" _Fine_ ," I growled. "But you do anything to annoy me and I'll spoon out your eyeballs."

"Has anyone ever told you you're an absolute joy to be around."

" _For fuck's sake_."

* * *

The two of us were walking to the guest hall when we spotted to wagon transporting rejects and quitters to the fields. I had been mostly been tuning out Eloise's meaningless yapping, but she never was able to take the hint I wasn't interesting about learning about her six brothers or her cat. She was relentless. I didn't know if she was purposely ignoring my attempts to scare her off or if she was just plain dense.

"I wonder how many of these soft-hearted headasses will be joining them," I commented, interrupting Eloise's rambling.

She chuckled, to my surprise, "They're a bunch of pansies. If they can't handle a bully then how the hell are they supposed to face titans? Good riddance."

In that moment I decided I wouldn't mind it all that much if Eloise decided to stick around. I figured she'd get bored with me after awhile. "You're right about that much. I wouldn't want to serve with a bunch of fucking cowards who would drown in their own piss if they ever came face to face with one of those fuckers."

"And you've had the pleasure of meeting a titan before?" Eloise questioned, turning sharply and boring her eyes into mine. Maybe she was smarter than I gave her credit for.

I leaned down and pinched her cheeks, to her utter dismay, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"You're full of shit," she spat and slapped my shoulder. It actually kinda stung. Eloise could prove to be useful.

"And you're not?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Now, see this," she laughed, "this is why I like you."

I was more pleased with this statement than I'd liked to admit.

The mess hall was stuffed to the brim with ravenous cadets when arrived. We squeezed into a table right next to where a bunch of owl-eyed kids had converged around one sitting figure. A few gasps of amazement reached my ears as I shoveled the poor excuse for soup into my mouth. The girl next to me, from the one from earlier with the scar, pinched her nose and mutter something profane underneath her breath. Eloise slid in the open spot across from us, nearly getting elbowed in the eye by one particularly ardent spectator. She punched him in the gut for good measure, still. I complimented her on her left hook to which she glowed.

"What's with the fanatics behind us?" she asked Scarface.

"Some kid from Shiganshina is putting on a show," Scarface responded, tearing at her bread with the ferocity of a wild animals. "The dumbasses as lapping it up like dogs."

"YOU SAW THE COLOSSAL TITAN?!"

"Fuck, if this goes on for much longer I might just kill myself," she groaned, plunking her bread into her soup and planting her face into her hands. A certain sadness, however, crossed her face at the mention of the titan who kicked in Wall Maria. My gut told me that she had been there on that day. A sick feeling twisted my stomach at the memory.

"He wasn't actually that big," came the short answer to the bombardment of questions, like the kid was trying to sound impressive. I only picked up on idiocy.

His audience continued to eat it up like a bunch of starving orphans. I never understood why those in the interior were so fascinated by the titans but so vehemently discouraged any mentions of the outside world. It was only obvious that to unearth more about the monsters we would have to venture outside the safety of the walls. Not that I was eager to leave myself. I just found it ironic.

I caught on to the last bits of whatever the kid had gone off about, " _I'm going to kill them all._ "

I couldn't stop myself. I roared with laughter.

The kid spun around with murder in his burning green eyes. "You got something to say?!"

Oh boy, this was bound to be fun.

(a/n)

eren pls stop yelling 2k17

forgive me for the low quality. exposition is always such a struggle fuck. i'm trying my best to reveal more about wisteria's character and I really hope she remains consistent? she's pretty much an asshole but like,,, i hope she's more three-dimensional than I feel she's coming off as. since I haven't really had her meet meet any of the canon characters yet this won't apply til later chapters but please inform me if someone is blatantly OOC. I will however ask for a bit of leniency seeing this will be my interpretation of the characters and odds are they might end up developing slightly differently than in the manga/anime.

i will also address what happened to may and wisteria's family in future chapters, I'm leaving it up in the air for a reason, mostly to kind of show you that wisteria doesn't even trust herself with those memories and "erases" them from her head. however, it'd be cool if you'd leave any theories you have in a review (it's a bit obvious but I appreciate it anyways.)

reminder to review !

more reviews = faster updates y'all. I posted this on here not only for you to enjoy it, but also to get feedback.


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